


Touch or Watch

by Leszre



Series: CMBYN softcore A/B/O verse [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: AU-modern setting, Alpha!_Elio, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Con-Crits Welcome!, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Not Beta Read, Omega!_Oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 03:45:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17994254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leszre/pseuds/Leszre
Summary: CMBYN in AU-softcore A/B/O spin.•Not-beta-ed,•Con-crits welcome! (I plea thee be ever so kind and gentle.)•uhmm... this justsprang to lifeout of nowhere..My Request: though I don’t foresee this from ever happening,please ask meif you, in any way, feel that this drabble is worthy of being shared in any platform other than AO3.





	Touch or Watch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SteadyLittleSoldier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteadyLittleSoldier/gifts).



####  **Touch or Watch**

 

“You heard me.”

Oliver just blinks, looking at Elio, frozen still on his way to bathroom.

“Is it because I came home late?”

Elio’s right shoulder tips up just a bit, holding his gaze to tell him that he means what he said.

Oliver has been away for one of the classics and philosophy conferences, for a week, in the mid-west. Four weeks ago, Oliver was invited to be one of the speakers there; with a handsome amount of compensation. To his credit, he did ask Elio to accompany him. You need to try the mid-western barbeque. I don’t wanna. How come? Elio frowned: he didn’t remember. Coming Thursday, Elio was presenting his fifth opera piece he wrote and it was going to be spectacular. The hazel eyes has been stressing over getting things right with a local youth choir.

“Elio, please,” the blond pleads.

*

 

When people ask how he and Oliver got together, Elio just says that it isn’t something remarkable. Oliver once pointed out that Elio has a knack for downplaying things, when he overheard Elio shrugged the question off with that same line at one of the parties they attended. Elio insists that it is not the kind of tale that’d inspire songs or feelgood movie scripts that make people go warm and fuzzy. “What’s wrong with trying to keep our saga to ourselves?” Elio retorted.

Olive, now five, loves the piano more than his papa. Oliver wanted another soon after Olive was weaned. ‘I’m not getting any younger, you know,’ said Oliver. But Elio insisted that he’s happy having one of each. Yes, Oliver did quip back. What about filling the house with more kids? Oliver remembered what Elio said when he proposed to him. After experiencing how nesting instinct works for an omega, it was a very long nine months for Elio. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ the hazel eyes reasoned, ‘I loved every moment of it: the whole thing, the ups–, the downs––.’ Not forgetting to mention how gorgeous Oliver looked to him, knowing Olive growing inside him. In the end, Elio just wanted him all to himself. Even through tiffs and disagreements, he can never get enough of Oliver.

*

 

Elio sometimes wonders what would have happened if he didn’t bump into Ellie in that local café. What if he decided to turn around when he saw the late morning crowd of that place? Because it _did_ cross his mind.

His beautiful omega was borderline touch-starved when Elio kissed him one mid-day at a very unlikely place. That kiss soon progressed to Oliver kneeling down in front him, hot breaths, full blown glinting blue eyes, like that morning after their first night together, eight years ago. His omega was aching to the bone for a gentle word, a smile, a tender brush of fingers along his jaw where Elio kissed and kissed under the hot Italian sun, along his neck where his softly beading sweat trailed down the thin gold chain hung there. Elio remembered how much he missed Oliver’s scent. It hit the roof of his mouth hard making him surge with want and need for desperate closeness.

When Oliver finally shed his layers, arched against Elio’s hands with more intent than what he’d given before: their first heat together. Oliver’s hand trailed over Elio’s back, legs spread so his strong thighs encased Elio’s hips, the whisper of ‘ah,’ ‘mph,’ automatically escaped through Oliver’s parted lips. He had kissed Oliver, touched him with gentle affectionate hands, on his neck, on his cheek, on his mouth, brought him to the brink of release, stroking him inside and out, until Oliver tilted his head exposing his beautiful neck, his Adam's apple making slow wave, his chest heaving with quickened breaths, and his belly became taut. Elio lulled his tongue over him as if to lick every hurt, every unfulfilled promise away and to cover Oliver with his scent. Oliver whispered he never knew how good the gentling would be. Soon the blond finally opened for Elio, and breathed out a ragged, desperate moan of calling Elio by his name, almost like a prayer. That was when the dark curls thrust deep into Oliver’s slick moistened body. Elio rocked their bodies together and gave his body in its entirety to Oliver’s pleasure, to satiate his heat, to demonstrate he is _the_  alpha for him, the one and only, to consume the years apart and burn every second of it into a thin smoke as if it never existed. Then, Elio took Oliver’s for his own, until their skin was shinning with thin layers of sweat, Oliver’s pleasure thick on his palm and on Elio’s stomach, his own pooling deep inside Oliver’s.

*

 

“Elio, please,” the blond pleads.

Elio just looks at him with ‘do you see this face? does this say I’m kidding?’, crossing his arms slowly, breathing out through his nose, intentionally audible. If you haven’t figured it out, I mean to feast on you. Elio’s eyes flicker. Oliver darts his eyes a little. It surprises Elio every time, seeing Oliver blush like that. Oh, don't you worry; Ellis and Olive are at Jess’s parents and they will be staying the whole weekend.

Oliver clicks his tongue.

“Fine,” the blue eyes agrees, begrudgingly, and tips his head sideways a little.

Elio hops up out of the bed and trots close behind him. Oliver hooks his long firm arm over Elio’s head that makes Elio burst out giggles, nudging his ribs lightly.

As Oliver turns on the shower, reaching behind the glass shower door, Elio ticks the lid of the toilet down with his finger and it lands on the seat with a muffled thud. Oliver just shakes his head. Elio parks his butt on it, pulling one of his knees in.

“You sure you don’t want to join me?”

Elio shakes his head, placing his chin on top of the bent knee, “hurry up and get the gunk off!!”

“Brat,” he tosses tartly, checking the water temperature.

Oliver grabs the neckline of his undershirt and pulls it over his head. Then he drops his sweat pants and his boxer in one sweep motion. Elio can’t hide his grin and he knows it. Oliver bunches up his t-shirt in his hands while he kicks his rolled up pants with his foot. Three pieces of clothing reeking the mixture of airplane, hard to pinpoint food smell, street dust, and other people with Oliver’s sweat land perfectly in the corner hamper.

“You enjoying yourself?”

“I like what I’m seeing,” Elio answers, “very much,” with a grin.

Oliver walks into the shower and the steady stream of water curtains around him steadily as he leans in his head first, then his neckline as his tipped his head, then his shoulder where Elio's a bite mark lies.

Fuucckkk

Elio knows Oliver is not doing that on purpose. It’s just how he does it.

Oliver’s big palm brushes up from his forehead over to the back of his skull. The warm water must feel good. Elio thinks. The flight back home wasn't long but going through the crowd as an omega still was a taxing thing for Oliver. Maybe he should have offered to run a bath for him, instead. Elio nibbles at his lower lip. No, Oliver wouldn't like being treated like a helpless underling.

Oliver is standing there soaking it in, with his eyes closed ever so gently. Elio’s tongue darts out involuntarily and wets his lips. Oliver is half hard already. Something about being watched, as Elio wanted, is unexpectedly proving itself to be enticing. When Oliver automatically reaches for his body care product,

“nuh, uh! the other one,” Elio tells him, tipping his chin up a little.

Oliver tilts his head up and to the side minutely, through the stream. His eyes glint dark with a small smirk on his face. Elio sees Oliver's eyes squint; but he doesn’t relent. So Oliver points his finger to a bottle, with his eyebrows raised slightly. The shower is fogging up nicely with thin steam cloud. The overhead vent is doing a perfect job, Elio thinks to himself. The hazel eyes gives a single nod. Oliver just shakes his head lightly.

That one is the unscented body wash Mafalda made: she sent a couple them over last month, along with other goodies to remind Elio of home. It takes the daily grim and dirt off but doesn’t leave any scent on the skin.

Oliver squeezes the bottle and the translucent gel pours out on his palm. He rubs his hands together and a generous amount of foam bubbles up quite quickly. Oliver runs one of his palms over his head and the other over his pectoral, then up and over his shoulder.

“I didn’t say you can touch,” says Elio, pointedly.

Oliver tsks with an expression 'how am I suppose to wash off the day?'

Before the blue eyes gets a chance to quip back, Elio says with a tiny nod, “slowly, then,” his eyes dark.

Oliver dumps his chest in a single sigh. He slows his leathering and runs his palm over his skin. Around the shoulder, down the upper arm, gently cups his elbow, then circle around his outer forearm, a little rub between his palms, back up the inner forearm, up to the bicep and the dip, then left pectoral. His fingers spread for his rib muscles, gently running up and down the length. Oliver presses his palm around his abs. It tightens as he sucks in a breath. After a wide circle around his belly, his hand reaches down to his lower pelvic area and–

“I said slowly,” Elio says low, mouthing the words.

Oliver mouths okay, okay, with a smile.

Elio can smell Oliver’s slick trickling down the back of his thigh as he gently wraps his hand around his erection. As instructed, Oliver runs his grip slowly from the base all the way to the top slit.

It’s a piece Elio composes for himself, through his omega. The sound of aerated water stream, the warm steam fog layering over, Oliver’s glistening skin emanating the scent he missed for past few days.

Elio goes to him, taking in the sight, the scent, the heat, happily filling his lungs; being lured in by his own creation, his master piece, hooked. The alpha swiftly sheds his pajama and steps into the shower. He cups Oliver’s shoulder and turns him around, gently. Oliver sees his alpha’s maroon ring has threaded completely into his gorgeous hazel iris.

“I didn’t say you can stop,” Elio say to him quietly with a low rumble from the back of his throat.

Oliver lets out a small pliant whine Elio loves, casting his eyelashes down and low. Elio’s upper lip curls, showing his teeth, desire pulling heavy on his lower abdomen. The long blond eyelashes flutter with warm water dewing at its end. When the alpha takes a single step, Oliver leans down a little and nuzzles his cheek on Elio’s. Elio hears his omega purr.

Elio reaches down and runs his hand on Oliver’s hip as the omega nips and kisses Elio’s neck and his ear lobe. Oliver jumps a little with a start, when Elio’s firm hand grips the blond’s glut tightly as he circles his thumb around the omega’s ring muscle. The alpha knows Oliver is ready. But Elio takes his time.

Oliver trembles and swallows harshly, an eager sigh slipping out through his parted lips, and his hot tongue licks the shell of Elio’s ear. Then, he gently bites down the scenting gland just below Elio’s ear lobe. The hazel eyes knows what this means. Elio reaches his other hand up and cups the back of Oliver’s skull, his fingers carding through the hair there. The hazel eyes loves Oliver like this, without layers, vulnerable and exposed, wanting and suppliant for more.

Oliver’s hand reaches around and grips Elio’s wrist when the alpha is about to put third finger, in his omega’s slicked maw.

“you really are going to make me beg, aren’t you?” Oliver whispers low against Elio’s ear. It sounded a little more like a warning. But the alpha doesn't care.

With a grin that borders dangerous and dark, the alpha tips his head up a little and whispers ever so slowly, “tell me what you want, Elio.”

Oliver lets out a drawn out groan.

Elio peels his body away and Oliver involuntarily leans forward a little as if to resist the seperation, and chases after his alpha, seeking the contact, the intimacy. Their eyes meet. Elio’s lips part, letting out a shuddering warm sigh. Oliver’s deep-ocean-blue eyes are flooded with the glistening gold. The blond bites his lower lip before he says:

“Turn me around and make me yours.”

.

 

| | | FIN | | |

**Author's Note:**

> I must have ate something wrong and PWOP came out. I still think this is a softcore A/B/O but…  
> .  
>  **Special Thanks To** :(A–Z: this is my AO3 tradition ever since my first post. At the end of each fic I logo-vomit, you’d see this list. *giggle*)  
> Ash1011,  
> BarkingBard,  
> Chrisaki,  
> ElementalPea,  
> Glam_PT,  
> hip-eponymous-poor-boy (small_vulcan),  
> KaliReeseLove,  
> Kittenpurple,  
> krazysquare_xxiii,  
> larrybabycakes,  
> lizainthesky,  
> lycanus1,  
> ohma_cmbyn,  
> PerpetualStorm,  
> piccola_nuvola_nera,  
> Prsart,  
> SteadyLittleSoldier,  
> ThatAj,  
> trashfortimmy,  
> and anons who sent kudos, those who subscribed, and bookmarked.  
> .  
> \Thank you/ **all** for reading, your time, your interest, and following this AU. :) *muwah*  
> .  
>  **as of May 1st, 2019**  
>  if you'd like to drop a suggestion or have a question about any of my drabbles (i.e. clarification, background, etc.), please click [Request/Q&A page](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18658678) and post your comment. ;)


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